Japanese Bluebelle
by fineontheoutside
Summary: "I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there will always be the person I am tonight." - F. Scott Fitzgerald. Suffocated by her overbearing mother, Aoko can only dream of who she wants to be. Set in the jazz era, if Japan ever did have such a phase. An AU of love, among other things
1. The Southern Belle

_Sorry for the long wait, I hope to be able to write more but with school starting, I'm not sure. I'm trying my hand in a more light-hearted story this time. And yes, this is a KaitoxAoko fic, please be patient and give this story a try._

She wanders through the Hakuba garden, basking in the dim beauty of the pale flowers and the glowing moonlight that serves to be her guide. The gray cobble stoned path designed in a complicated geometric pattern, one that Hakuba Saguru himself had designed, makes a gentle clacking sound against her cream colored heels with each careful step she took. She wants to lose herself in the flowers and the trees. She wants to forget who she is deep into the forest of well trimmed roses and an ocean of large bluebells. Vaguely, she wonders what it would be like to evaporate right there from the garden. She imagines disappearing without a trace and in the back of her mind, she muses over who would take the time to look for her. The unachievable dream tempts her.

"Aoko-kun, is that you?" she hears Saguru calling from the entrance of the garden. She doesn't face him immediately but rather gazes at the grand array of flowers for a second longer before turning towards him with a soft smile plastered onto her face. "What are you doing here?" he asks, concern tainting his voice. "It's freezing." He walks toward her dressed in black tie. "I just needed to get some fresh air. I hope I'm not causing any trouble," she apologizes.

"Not a problem, he says smoothly. "Take your time. The stars are clear on cold nights like this. Really, it's beautiful outside. Perfect for clearing away troubles but I just can't see how you're not freezing to death in this 2.1 degrees Celsius temperature tonight. Especially in that dress. It's lovely, don't get me wrong, but it surely can't provide much warmth."

She laughs lightly. Aoko wants to tell him that it was her mother that picked the dress out for her, though he could probably deduce it himself. The sleeveless one piece that shaped her physique and ended before her knees. She answers that she is rather cold, though she isn't. It was too stuffy and proper in the house. She's been trained by her mother to act the way she does. Her mother had stressed on the importance of acting like a southern belle, like her mother once was. She learned to never falter with her composure. To act dainty in the appearance of gentlemen. To sit up straight. Condemned to be soft spoken. Never to voice her opinions. Never be without the escort of a gentleman in any social appearance.

Really, she had tried to escape from the last one, with little proven success. She doesn't mind that it's Saguru too much though. Compared to other men, she's lucky that it's him. She grew up with him as a child back when her mother, Hime, granting her permission to have blotches of mud staining her dress at the end of the day. They went to school together until Aoko was forced to drop out and enlist in boarding school to become a _proper lady_. He was one of the few men she's met that seems to genuinely care for her well being and enjoy her general company while others fain interest and prefer to put her on display in public places with her by his side.

She knows that he knows she's lying about the cold bothering her. It's never seemed to be an obstacle for her since they were young children. She could walk to school in the cold with him as it snowed, wearing only her navy blue uniform skirt to protect her legs, but it doesn't stop him from Saguru taking off his suit jacket and placing it over her shoulders. He's a born gentleman through and through. Deep inside, she wishes she could have the natural knack for being socially charming. "Thank you," she whispers to him and he gives her a wink. They take a seat on the garden bench, wordlessly staring at the darkened sky, an inverted canvas peppered with splatters.

He gets up first after a couple minutes fly by like a shooting star and he offers her his hand to help her up. She's perfectly capable of standing up from the bench without his help, but she accepts and places her soft hands into his strong ones. "Would you like to go inside? There's someone I'd like to introduce you to," he states in the form of a question. He gestures towards his brightly lit mansion, often referred to as Hakuba Hall, an affectionate nickname bestowed by the news reporters that often make appearances to interview Saguru on his latest detective works.

"I'm sure mother put you up to this. He's going to be some rich man hungrily looking for any pretty girl that he can bribe with his old money to settle down with," she sighs, stretching her arms. She peels off Saguru's jacket and tosses it to him. He almost drops it in the dirt and lilies. Aoko glances over her shoulder to insure no one saw her being unladylike before dissolving into giggles. An impressive wall of hydrangeas protects them from society.

"He's a detective I've known for quite some time now." Aoko ignores him and takes an interest in the red roses. "I think you might take a liking to him," he offers. Aoko gives a dramatic sigh. "As long as he's not going to be one of the suitor's that passed mother's list of requirements, I suppose I can stand to accompany him for one night." Saguru sucks in his cheeks and offers no agreement, to which Aoko notices immediately. "You're kidding me," she murmurs with traces of faint callousness. She digs the extended heels of her off white shoes into the mud, dirtying them, until they are more like flats and not the four inch hells that pinch her toes tightly. Splotches of dark brown earth settle on the smooth surface of her expensive shoes. Saguru watches.

She imagines the heels of her shoes growing roots underneath the soft dirt and keeping her to the ground where her mother couldn't push her around wherever she fancied. She pictures herself growing into something like a flower, admired and cared for. Still, she'd be treated with kindness for her beauty, but as a flower, she could hold her ground. Really, Aoko doesn't care to be a flower; she just wants to live on her own terms.

With added gentleness and cautiousness, Saguru guides Aoko back to the bench and removes her shoes. She feels a bit like a reverse Cinderella, the way he slips her heels off with wholehearted concern. The Britt uses his pocket handkerchief and wipes off the mud that was caked onto them. She thanks him in a low, singsong voice as the realization of her mother's anger suddenly stung her as a possibility if she returned with dirtied shoes.

"Really, he's not all that bad. I was the one that suggested him coming to the party and your mother met him afterwards and interrogated him," he reasons, chasing Aoko back onto the topic of his guest and Aoko whispers a quiet agreement.

They walk back on the cobble stone path heading toward the house. "Madame Nakamori is looking for you," he whispers to her, pointing just above a trimmed hedge toward the second floor of the magnificent house. The grand windows of the third floor, glowing a vibrant gold from the lighting, released the blurred silhouette of a tall woman clearly in search of someone, occasionally stopping by maids assumedly to ask a question before walking away flustered. Aoko releases a groan.

"We need to get you back inside before she realizes you've been trying to avoid everyone." She nods wordlessly and her hesitancy to return inside fades. She follows him with a glimmer of dejectedness in her eyes as she follows Saguru back into the grand estate. Aoko's sense of comfort is left behind in the garden and her demeanor suddenly evolves. She becomes increasingly meek with every step they take. More polite, more agreeable. Less Aoko.

Her pale brown dress begins to reflect light as the pair walks closer toward the house. It begins to shimmer and reflect against the strong illuminations of the party, transforming the short dress her mother had forced her to wearing into a glowing gown of gold. Men outside on the patio turn their heads toward the attractive two and she becomes careful not to make eye contact with any of them. She had made the mistake at curiously glancing at her audience before and later felt deep remorse when she had become condemned to spend the rest of the parties catering to the guests that had caught her eye for a fraction of a second.

She lifts her head a little higher and takes smaller steps. Saguru offers Aoko his elbow to which she daintily accepts. Aoko gently feels the fabric of his Savoy Taylors Guild suit that he had custom fit from London, and the sturdiness of his arm underneath the thick, quality fabric. She can smell the faint scent of the cologne she had bought for him lingering in their shared space. She remembers that he wasn't particularly fond of it at first, as he had never heard of the brand, but was delighted nevertheless with the quiet aroma of the forest. To Aoko, it smelled like freedom. She herself had been doused in perfume by one of her maids that had been picked out for her by her mother. It drowned her in overgrown jasmine and violet. The heavy feminine notes of her expensive perfume flirted with Saguru's and she felt deep embarrassment brewing within her as she wished she could have sprayed on Saguru's rather than hers.

"Saguru Obocchan," a butler, as well dressed as the guests, bows in front of them in respect as they step onto the porch. He offers them a silver platter that sits two tall, thin glasses of champagne. He accepts, placing one into Aoko's hand before taking his own. They clink their glasses together. "A toast to youth, and all of the gifts that accompany it," he offers and she lifts the drink to her lips. Though she could finish the alcohol in one go, she remembers where she is and her place. Aoko nurses the bubbling drink in dainty sips, careful not to smear her new rosy red matte lip stick onto the intricately engraved glass. There's a small scene of a stampede of stallions on it, and she takes the time to admire it with genuine curiosity. White horse, she remembers fondly.

As she hands the empty glass back to the butler, with a ghost of a smile, the faint trace of a threatening red smear wiped away with a quick swipe of her finger. The girl suddenly feels a hand clamp against her wrist. She releases a breathy gasp of surprise before composing herself. She almost grinds her heels against the figure's foot before she realizes who it is. "Mother," she whispers lowly, suddenly very relieved that she didn't step on her mother's silver and blue Louboutin pumps. Her mother would kill her if she had, though she has a pair of shoes for every dress and she never wears the same dress twice.

Aoko gives her mother an attempt of a charming smile and an air of disguised elegance. She forces on a look of faded feminine composure at the woman towering over her. Saguru says nothing, standing over with the butler. He'd never admit it, but Aoko knows he's terrified of her mother as well.

Her mother, undoubtedly beautiful, with her perfectly contoured face and winged eyeliner sharper than her extravagant wit, takes a perfectly manicured acrylic maroon clad finger and swipes a piece of Aoko's hair out of her face. She mentions how shamefully messy it is, the number of flyaway's and bumps in her hair being disrespectful to the formal event. "Redo it," she states in her husky voice that taunts and tantalizes, without a second thought and order's one of Saguru's maids to take her daughter into an unoccupied room and unknot the braids only to reweave it back into the same elaborate plait, only tighter.

Stuck in a broom closet, as it was the only room the maid found to be free of the possibility of uninvited presences, the maid begins the task of managing Aoko's untamable hair. "I'm sorry," she apologizes without reason to the Japanese girl. The maid brushes her own light brown bangs out of her face before touching her focuses. Really, Aoko can't help but to admire the maid's hair. The paleness of her hazel hair cut in a wispy tom boyish manner hiding her ears seems to accentuate her petite feminine frame. Aoko grows a headache as the young worker with Western almond eyes that she can't quite tell if its blue or green begins to pull her hair into place. She's singing to herself in English, a love song. Aoko hears words she understands here and there but overall, most of the song is twisted into incomprehension with her thick British accent. Aoko sticks with closing her eyes, patiently waiting for the pain against her scalp to loosen. She smells of lavender, or perhaps, it's simply only of the dryer sheets waiting patiently on one of the higher shelves.

Her mother comes into the broom closet to inspect her hair when the maid finishes and after a distasteful glance, she releases an exasperated sigh and dramatically declares that her daughter is fit to evaluate the suitors at the party. Aoko doesn't especially want to leave the comfort of the small room and meet the guests but she forces herself to step out into the shark tank. Saguru, who was waiting for her, lights up and walks to her and her mother.

"Madame Nakamori," he acknowledges with a charming smile and a quick bow. He kisses her hand, to which she gives a look of approval to. The stiff demeanor of the older woman suddenly grows to become softer, sweeter. "Good evening Saguru-kun. You're party is as gorgeous as ever ," she voices with utmost favor "and I've told you, there's no need for calling me 'Madame', we've known each other far too long for such formalities," she charms. "Hime-san, then," he corrects himself with a bow in apology. She leads the conversation into small talk, to which Saguru excels at, skillfully asking about her dress. Aoko retains the desire to roll her eyes and represses her boredom as she hears her mother explain in great details the handiwork of her lace wrap from Diane Von Furstenberg. After a few more minutes of conversation, Saguru politely excuses himself when the mother spoke. She gives a sweet look toward Hakuba and loudly suggests him to be a fitting candidate for her search towards Aoko's gentleman caller. "Thank you for the suggestion Hime-san, I'll be sure to take it into account," he says unfazed.

He offers Aoko an extended arm, to which she graciously takes, thankful to be away from the suffocating woman and walks back toward the patio; the rosewood flooring releasing the subtle sweet scent of the summer evening. The two grab another bout of alcohol and laugh lightly. "Marry me," she teases pulling on his tie to bring his face closer, keeping her voice quiet so those around them don't hear. "I'm too afraid to spend every Christmas with your mother to," he replies with the same quiet tone, swatting her hand away in a playful manner after confirming no one was watching. The two friends take another drink to their youth.

"I need to introduce you to someone," he remembers, his voice rising back to his norm. "I'll go fetch him." He leaves Aoko out on the patio before she can manage words, alone, and it's like magic how his disappearance had conjured the appearance of other men. The petite brunette's surprised Saguru left her so willingly among the pack of wolves, but she doesn't voice her fear of being left on the patio. Had her mother been near, Hime would have badgered her daughter to use the opportunity to appear as the single maiden she is to associate with other men without her childhood friend's protection.

One walks up to her in a confident swagger, dark hair, dark eyes, and glasses for a look of intelligence. Undoubtedly, he's handsome but Aoko wants nothing to do with the possessive stare that he reaches towards her with. He greets her, introducing himself to be Akagi Kyo. He traces his hand along her side before grasping her hand and leaving a kiss upon it, to which she stiffens and forces herself not to shiver. "Entertain me, Mademoiselle," he murmurs, hand still clasped onto hers.

"I'm waiting for someone," she says coldly, her head held high. Aoko refuses to give the man the satisfaction of her obvious discomfort. She wants to throw the remaining champagne in her glass at the man's face or at least slap his clammy hand away from hers. She settles for neither, and too afraid to cause a scene to ask for help, she twists her wrist away from his reach and emits an air of dignified self worth. He grabs her again, this time both of her wrists; Aoko begins to call out for help, but stops before the voice reaches through her throat in fear of word getting to her mother.

Her mother would scold her with intense ferocity if she had even been notified that her lone daughter at the age suitable to be looking for a male caller had denied the request of the company of a gentleman. Aoko notices her hands shaking against the tight pressure of his rough hands. Panic consumes her as she levels the fear of her mother above the man her own age towering over her.

She sees the scene unfold in the tall windows. She notices in the reflection, herself. The girl, only a year before twenty, thinks that she sees less of her than there used to be. Her thin frame appearing to appeared to look even smaller. She seemed to be disappearing, wilting into nothingness. She lost weight; her entire persona seemed to be only a fraction of what it was at the last party, a moon ago. Aoko realizes that she seems to be melting away into oblivion, where only a puddle of her memory will remain as, that too, will eventually evaporate into the blank stare of nihility. It scares her.

Everything else however, the background, seemed to be intolerably large. Grotesque and obesely so. Kyo and his frighteningly sturdy build refusing to lighten his hold onto her arms. If his face wasn't contorted into one of agitation and arrogance, Aoko believes her mother would try to set the two together, had she met the man. He's dressed with divine taste, obviously coming from a family with money. His suit, freshly pressed, makes a fine crease on where his elbow bends. His cuff link gleams in the window, as does the reflection of the rim of his glasses.

No one helps her. Rather, the few that do seem to take note of the agitation of the young lady's demeanor, simply take a feigned interest in the opulent glass centerpiece on the mixer's bar. Unmistakably, it's slightly, the shape of a stallion on its hind legs ready to run his way to freedom. The opaque, milky coloring of the statue, displaying itself at over two feet in a prideful stance, takea away from Aoko's fear to cry for help. The guests of the party dissolve themselves into the thick layers of hand woven silk and lace of their formal garments and the foamy folds of fine champagne. Among the alluring audience, Aoko was alone.

The bystander effect, the British detective called it once. Where no one helps the victim in a crowd, expecting others to do so instead. Kyo refuses to release her wrists, only taunting her further, fully aware of Aoko's reluctance to call for help. "Let go of me," she asks indignantly but quietly. Before Kyo says anything with his crooked and distastefully cocky smile, Saguru places a hand on his shoulder, and looks at him coldly. "I don't suppose you're using your brother's name to excuse this ridiculous behavior," Saguru asks him calmly with an underlying tone of venom.

Kyo glares at him with equal venom but drops Aoko's hands to which she reacts immediately, swiftly walking to be beside her childhood friend. "Don't associate me with that soccer playing bastard, Hideo," he nearly yells. An older couple gives a distasteful glance toward him; Kyo's face rushes color upon realization of the scene he had caused. "Please excuse yourself, Akagi-san, I'll be sure to inform the staff you are no longer welcome," Saguru states, bitterness falling into his words at last. Kyo, clearly, outraged by the act of authority asserted onto him, spits on the rosewood flooring of the patio, shrugging his shoulders in feigned indifference. More of the surrounding audience turns towards the act of disrespect, mentally taking note of the famous Tokyo Spirits soccer player's less known brother. One of the more youthful workers of the party, perhaps one of the entertainers, guides him around the house, towards the magnificent, black baroque styled fence. He walks out, defeated, giving a final glance of angry desire towards the girl swelling with contained furosity.

"I'm sorry for this inexcusable behavior," the blond sighs, his vexation slowly waning, replacing itself with concern toward his childhood friend. He gently takes a hold of Aoko's wrists, inspecting them for the slightest flaws. "I'm fine," she assures him, shaking her hands away from him, offering a gentle smile. The number of couples watching the course of events begin to lose interest, and when the elderly couple finally walk back inside to the center of the party, Aoko lets out a heavy sigh and rests her head on Saguru's chest. "I wanted to hit him," she whispers guiltily. Saguru lets out a sigh of relief of his own, reassurance of Aoko's safety.

"Let's go inside," he recommends after giving her time to recover. She nods, giving him a forced smile he sees straight through. One of the maids, the one that fixed her hair, takes notice as she offers to take up glasses with various alcohols dabbling the rim and small plates of leftover European cuisine amongst the guests on the patio. Upon setting the dirty dishes aside, she fills a clean glass with orange juice and takes it to Aoko, her faint lavender scent following her. The girl accepts gratefully, holding the milky antique glass and taking quick sips of the refreshing beverage. "Thank you Koshimizu-san," Saguru offers cautiously to which she gives a small smile and nods before coolly walking off.

He leads Aoko inside the house, in the second living room. It's significantly smaller than the main room but holds a more lived in feeling. A pale milk chocolate wall contained a man dressed in formal navy blue, reading one of the books from the large bookshelf. "Kudo," Saguru calls out. He closes the book, one of the first editions of Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper, and looks up. His sharp blue eyes catch sight of Aoko and holds a pocket of silence, his eyes never leaving her face. She holds the gaze, wondering what's causing him to make such a lonely face towards her.

 _AN: Probably the longest thing I've ever written so far and it's only getting longer. Another attempt at a story that'll last longer than a single chapter. We'll see how it turns out. I promise you'll see Kaito soon. Anyway, review?_


	2. Old Money

_I do hope you enjoy this chapter. Please leave me a review, I'm not too confident over this story._

"This must be Nakamori-san," he says absently, after an elongated pause. "I've heard so much about you. I've been interested in meeting you for quite some time." He walks up to Aoko, who had remained near the doorway behind Saguru, unsure of what to say or do. She recollects herself and closes the remaining distance herself. "Pleasure to meet you Kudo-san," the brunette curtsies in front of him and offers him her hand to which he brings to his lips. As though rehearsed, she lets out a low giggle of bliss.

"Kudo and I solved a few cases together before," Saguru explains. He pats Aoko on the back with good nature and gives a welcoming nod to Kudo. They take a seat on the leather couch conversing lightly. The feigned politeness Aoko has become accustomed to protrudes as she refrains herself from using a variety of the colloquials she had gathered from her father, keeping her from describing herself too honestly when he asks about her. She waters her opinions down by drowning her beliefs in filler words and empty qualifiers, leaving little to be extracted from her speech. It hurts herself to be as obscure as she is, but this man, Kudo, had been interrogated by her mother, leaving her to lead a path to avoid negative word of her wafting to Hime's ears.

The detective's eyes never leave Aoko's face, studying it, drinking it all in. She feels slightly overwhelmed; the amount of attention she's being provided by this undoubtedly handsome man, causing her cheeks to redden. She looks away, breaking eye contact, resting her eyes on Saguru, oblivious to the girl's discomfort. He's reading the book Kudo put down, lost in his own world leaving Aoko behind to fend for herself with the gentleman that she can't help but feel intrigued about him. She wants to throw her shoe at her childhood friend, but resists to do so at such an circumstance. Instead, she turns to Kudo and looks at him with, large curious eyes.

The detective prods her with questions and she answers in such a way that she's avoiding making progress. She's refilling the holes he's digging. The girl tries to ask more about him, referring to his success as a detective. In bringing on a topic of matter he should have confidence in such as his work as a detective, Aoko gently pushes on a more comfortable topic for her to speak easily of, though the attempts proved to be fruitless. She doesn't want to slip up and say she how she loves to drink rich hot chocolate over Earl Grey tea and dance without shoes when no one is watching. "I'm curious about you, Nakamori-san," Kudo grins charmingly. "I'd like to know more about who you are." Aoko stills for a moment, unsure of or unable to throw back reserved flirty banter. He asks about her hobbies, giving karate as an example, one that she finds odd to offer as a model, but she doesn't care to pursue it. Pausing for a moment, she stutters her taste for gardening, though really she cares more for the seclusion of the floral reefs than the actual nurturing of them. He asks her about her luck, how well she can cook, whether or not she's believes in and is scared of the supernatural. She finds words for each one hesitantly, packaging each answer in delicate, shiny wrapping paper that holds words of little value. The questions are odd, out of place, but she doesn't comment on them.

"I have a feeling," he says with a sigh after multiple occasions of avoidant advancements in the conversation, "that you're not being completely honest with me. You're not at all how Hakuba described you to be." Aoko freezes, never having been commented on her feigned attitude. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," she laughs lightly, trying desperately to brush his comment off. Aoko feels instantaneous guilt, like a thief caught with a jewel in his hand.

"You have a tendency to bite your bottom lip when you're lying, Aoko-kun," Saguru calls out, standing up to return the Mark Twain book on the shelf. He gives a somber glance to Kudo as he walks across the room in a slow, demonstrative fashion. "Damn it Saguru," she finds the words filling the air in her once collected, dull voice. She freezes as she realizes what she had said. Aoko looks at the two detectives in disbelief, an image of her mother's dissatisfaction coursing through her entity like liquid lead. She feels heavy and cold. She feels like the word _metallic_. "I'm sure Kudo noticed that," the British detective says and the Japanese one gives a nod of agreement though his mind seems to be in a more distant state.

"Saguru," her voice rings out, shrill and panicky. She stands up suddenly, the light dances off of her golden dress as she stands defiantly and terrified all the same. The girl's scared, clearly so. Saguru looks at her calmly, understandingly. He acknowledges her fear of her mother, known for her atrocious behavior of sending the neighborhood's young ladies off with rich, successful men. Though Aoko trusts that her childhood would never set her up to perceive herself a fool in such situations, she hardly trusts the deductive mystery of a guest not to say a word. "You're worrying is going to waste, Aoko," the blond Britt vocalizes. "He's not anyone fit to antagonize."

She stands there like a fool. Frankly, she was unsure of how to counter his proposition on a man she had barely spent half a glass of wine's worth of a conversation with. So Aoko, the daughter of the infamous fashion siren and the drunken inspector, remains standing, waiting nervously for the events to play out.

The dim romantic golden light brings slight comfort to the panicked maiden. There's a sense of serenity in one of the lesser used rooms of Hakuba Manor; really, it's one of Aoko's favorite rooms of the house. When Saguru's Japanese grandfather first built the house, the interior decorator had mixed the floor plans with another house he had previously built and had added an additional room to the blueprints that stood against the opulent tone of the rest of the estate. Contrasting against the elegantly smooth marble flooring, the inviting cream colored wool carpet quickly caught the eye of the young wanderer when she was first invited to Saguru's house. The style of the room was undoubtedly different; the smooth chocolate paint against the dark macassar ebony wood, the circular windows hidden by creamy blue curtains against the elaborately engraved panels of glass. Master Hakuba planned to have the room rearranged, destroyed and rebuilt to the standard of the original rooms, but it remained when young Saguru begged for the room to stay, claiming it was the room best fit for his sleuthing and studying.

In keeping the room, Master Hakuba had made the room as inconspicuous as possible from outside. The doors, though undoubtedly grandiose, were made of the same rich wood as the walls, were rarely noticed by the drunken guests, which fit Saguru's tastes quite fine. The room remained to be one of the few spaces in the Manor that was left untouched by guests. It came to be a convenient room to reside in for comfortable conversations without a disruptive threat.

Kudo remains sitting on the couch passively, looking both rueful and in deep thought. His eyes, a piercing blue, persistently fixated on Aoko's face nearly glazes over. He doesn't say a word to soothe the panic of the girl he had been waiting to meet. There's words clogged in Aoko's throat. Uncertainty weaving a tangle of impenetrable disarray, clumping together in a syrupy sort of way. Wide eyed, she looks at Saguru expectantly. The British detective sighs, the misunderstanding and lack of verbalized expression settling slowly like warm air on a cooling Autumn night. It exhausts him, as he continues to sooth Aoko. He places her on the couch before ensuring her heart rate to lower by massaging her hand and promising her, her mother would remain oblivious to her act.

"Aoko-kun," Saguru starts after a moment, "Kudo isn't here to court you. He's here more to… make amends in his own sort of way." Her panic dissolves like sugar water at the words. But there's still confusion, sticky and lingering. She glances at the Japanese detective, who was still intently gazing back at her in thoughtful oblivion. "Kudo-san?" she says gingerly, her hand reaching out towards his. He gives a jerk when she places her warm hands on his surprisingly colds ones and she immediately pulls back out of shock. Saguru gives him a look and gestures to tell her of why he insisted on seeing the girl. "You look a lot like someone I love," he gives a sad smile. "I want to see her again, even if for just one drunken night, but you and her, are quite different. I suppose I wasn't exactly completely honest with you either."

A silence settles among them. Comfortable. Healing. The three of them sit in the near hidden second living room rearranged as a study. Lost in their thoughts. The golden light of the room showering them in the elegant peace. The muted sounds of the party can be heard. The laughing and the music and gentle clacking of the guest's shoes. They seem to be in a completely different world than the three of them. Falling in love in a simple fashion under the influence of the sweet champagne and the stars.

"I'd like to continue seeing you," Kudo says expectantly. "Non-romantic purposes of course, but you're quite a curious character. It'll be an excuse to see Hakuba too, the cheeky bastard always claiming he's too busy to meet up everyone once in a while." Saguru gives an indifferent shrug, a grin he can't fight off plastered onto his face. Aoko nods, the rarity of a friend made without her high status or the hopes of a share of the assets that follow her. "I'd like that very much Kudo-san." "Shinichi, if you will," he offers, and Aoko gives a sincere smile and repeats the name in agreement.

"Well," Saguru stands and releases an exhausted yawn. "I think a nice change of pace is in order for this moment. Perhaps we should go to the garden. I don't suppose Kudo's seen it yet and Aoko-kun's got quite an attachment to it." The two Japanese stand in their own elegant way, shy comfort settling between them. Aoko quickly agrees, reminded of the seclusion of the colorful foliage that will hide the three friends. The sound of the guests outside the room grows louder, closer; the garden grows a wall of beautiful hydrangeas.

"If it won't be too much of a bother, I'd like to make a round and say greetings to some of the new guests. I heard Koimizu-san is here and I'd like to pay my respects," Saguru responds. "I'll meet you there soon." Aoko shoots him a knowing look, thinking of why he would go out of the way to see one out of his magnitude of stunning guests that walk his manor. He ignores her suggestive glance, as though the idea is unbearably preposterous.

With that, the Britt opens the large doors and the hinges groan with the weight of the intricately carved wood. The few drunken guests look puzzled at the dark streaked wooden door they must have presumably assumed to be a wall. A more younger woman with wavy light brown hair, dressed in a rather flapper style dress with deep silver and black fringes and a very detailed and glitzy headband, tipsily makes her way in awe toward the opening of the room. She holds hands with a tan man the same age of her wearing sleek black that prominently displays a prideful Osakan soccer team emblem. She sings beautifully but incomprehensibly as she makes her way to the British detective. "Sagu-chan!" the woman calls out happily, waving lazily toward him.

"If you'll excuse me," he politely bows embarrassedly at Aoko and Shinichi before turning to the woman. "Okino-san, I'm rather surprised to see you here. I thought you were out touring." "I was but I came back a little early," she answers, her words slurring together happily. "Anyway, I want you to meet my fiancé," the singer goes on. Saguru gives a good natured wave at Aoko and Shinichi, gesturing for them to go on, slightly embarrassed he could only walk them as far as he did.

"Should we continue on without him, then?" Shinichi whispers and Aoko nods. She delicately wraps her fingers around the silken navy blue suit that covers his muscular arms. They walk away from the blond, in the direction of the patient garden. They make their way slowly; Shinichi taking slow, deliberate steps, accounting for Aoko's short legs in her white high heels. Aoko barely has the luxury of hearing the light pattering of her feet on the patio, where she could see the trail that leads to the grand green hydrangea leaf wall before she is sharply frozen by her mother's voice calling for her and her partner.

"Dear," she says to Aoko. The pair turns around, facing the overbearing mother. The maroon matte fingernail of her index resting on the crook of her chin and cheek. "I was going to introduce him to you myself but I suppose that won't be necessary anymore." She speaks sweetly, a tone much softer than the one she contoured herself in when sending Aoko to redo her hair. "Madame Nakamori," Shinichi states, taking a step closer to her and lifting her hand to place a polite kiss on her hand. She laughs lightly, nodding in approval of the boy. "It's been a pleasure to meet your daughter," he tells her confidently. She gives him a kind smile. "Come and see her whenever you'd like, dear, we're always open to friends."

Aoko, standing behind Shinichi, watches the scene unfold. She wants to sit and give her toes a break from her pinching white heels. She watches her mother and new friend make small talk of absolutely nothing. Unable to stand how fake her mother and even Shinichi are, she forces her aching feet to take a step forward and lace her hand into Shinichi's. The pair looks at her in shock as she fakes a blush and an airy giggle. She's no better than the rest of the fake participants of this game. "Mother, I know you want to talk to Kudo-san, but do you think you could do it another time? I'd like to introduce him to some of the other guests at the party. Show off what a gentleman he is," she says with a forced wink.

"Of course dear," Hime whispers to her daughter. "Of course, and why won't you see us again soon sometime Kudo-kun. It'd be a pleasure to have you over for dinner. Perhaps next week?" Aoko freezes at her mother's words but Shinichi coolly replies enthusiastically before appropriately dismissing himself, rewrapping Aoko's hand around his arm. They take elegant strides away from the gushing mother.

"I'm sorry about that, Ku-Shinichi, my mother can be very overwhelming at times." Aoko finds herself apologizing, struggling to find words that would save her from the unbearable experience she had become a part of. She wants to run, far away from Hime and Shinichi and everyone else at the god damn party. She doesn't even want the presence of Saguru, at the moment. No matter how understanding he is of her distaste, he himself is a part of the elegant debauchery her society holds. She wants to be far away from the rich, lavish lifestyle she lives, run away and live in a cottage by the seaside where the morning breeze would smell of plumerias and salt or perhaps a cabin in deep green woods near a clear lake to live off the fat of the land. Really, all she wants to do is escape from her life. She doesn't ask for spontaneity or freedom. She just doesn't want to be here. And perhaps if she made up an excuse to leave Shinichi's side, she could coax a ride from one of the leaving guests and find herself living a life of mystery and something new. Her hitchhiking endeavors could end in a brilliant story of romance and adventure that could shape the rest of her life without the presence of her mother or the snootish atmosphere of the upper class, but really, her white shoes remain pinching her toes as they sink deeper into dirt. Nakamori Aoko, who dreams of a life more meaningful, smiles to Shinichi, and apologizes to him once more.

"No, no. It's quite alright. You're mother is a pleasant woman; she cares very much for you. Unlike mine, I can see that she tries hard to lead you on the right path." Aoko wants to ask him what his mother's like or slide in a snarky comment towards her mother, but she can't muster the courage to. Her predicament is interrupted when Saguru calls out towards them, near the entrance of the lush garden. The pair walks hurriedly to his presence. "You two took much longer than I expected. Did I miss anything?" he curiously asks. "You missed another warm heart to heart with my mother again," Aoko banters and the Britt can't help but laugh.

The three disappear into the thick green walls that surround the garden before Aoko slides off the shoes, throwing them into Saguru's unsuspecting arms. He stumbles but manages to catch them with a sigh. "How was Akako-chan?" she asks out of genuine curiosity. She remembers, before her parents had hired a private tutor to teach her at home, when she attended a beautifully prestigious boarding school with Saguru, where her roommate went by Koizumi Akako. She was incomprehensibly beautiful, enough so that there were always a couple boys from the rivaling private school enrolling in at the end of each semester to attend the same classes as her. There were often girls, Aoko remembers, who were jealous of Akako-chan to the point where there were rumors spread of her. Before Akako had left the school to continue her schooling in an even more elusive school, there had been false scandals of her sleeping with a particularly young professor. There had been girls going as far as to call her a witch, based upon the bewitching aura that came across when she was in the presence of the gentlemen of the boarding school. Aoko, however, had been quite fond of the girl, looking up to her.

"Koizumi-san's doing splendid. She said she's engaged. I think she said it was Takahiro Sanada. You know him, right? He's a couple years our senior and plays for the Big Osaka soccer team," Saguru explains. Aoko thinks she remembers Akako-chan pointing out the messy haired teen with the sly smirk, smiling on TV as he shook hands with the Big Osaka manager and accepting a green jersey. She'd never imagined that years later her roommate would be engaged to someone they had been admiring over a TV screen in their large dorm room.

"She's already engaged? She's only seventeen," Aoko remarks, surprise tainting her voice as she takes a seat on the single elaborately carved wooden bench. "You're seventeen, Aoko and if I remember correctly your mother seems to be very eager to see you off with a husband." The girl flinches at his words. She's speechlessly frozen. Unable, unwilling to throw another remark towards him. She wants to see farther than what wealth will take either of them.

"Aren't you a little disappointed to hear that she's getting married, Saguru?" she asks finally. Saguru sighs and sits beside Aoko on the bench. Shinichi follows. "I can't say I'm satisfied to hear that Koizumi-san's going to marry that soccer player but it's not my place to voice my displeasure."

"Saguru, do you love her?" Aoko asks out of genuine curiosity. "I can admire beauty," he stutters and she laughs, swinging her legs. "I don't think what I felt was exactly love for the girl," he admits finally. "Nevertheless, she must be quite a girl to get Hakuba flustered like that," Shinichi laughs, nudging his detective friend.

The three of them settle in their comfortable presence, dissolving into thick bursts of stories and laughs and general happiness. Aoko's smiling, following along and contributing to the conversation without feeling a need to bite her tongue among her two companions. She's eagerly blissful, content to converse without needed to filter herself nearly as much as she would usually have to. Still, she refrains herself from floating expletives into her speech or carrying the direction of the conversation into a topic she is much more interested in.

As a result, the two detective boys lift the conversation into the murder mysteries they had solved over the years. Saguru, too deeply conversing with Shinichi about a particular locked room murder, doesn't notice Aoko's eyes glazing over as she sets her head on his shoulder.

"Hey," she calls out, drawing the two from their ever so intriguing topics. "I'm a little thirsty; I think I'm going to go grab a drink. I'll be right back. Would you two like anything?" She feels just as stuffy sitting and listening to the two's irrelevant talk as she would among the guests of the party and she needs a moment to herself.

"I'm more than willing to go out and find some drinks," Shinchi stands and offers with a smile. Saguru looks at Aoko and gives the same reply, offering himself as the host of the party as reason. "I'll be fine," she laughs gently, declining both of her suitors. "I'll be right back."

"At least let me go with you," Saguru dotes, handing Aoko her shoes to which she shakes her head in reply. "What kind of a guest are you to leave Kudo-san alone in a garden," she teases, slipping her heels on slowly. "I'm sure he won't mind Aoko. What would your mother say if she saw you?" he asks worriedly. "Mother thinks I'm parading Shinichi around the party. Besides it's past midnight and you know how she is about her beauty sleep."

"Watch yourself," Saguru sighs, seeing he's lost. Aoko nods and waves at him and Shinichi before leaving the dark foliage into the bright, artificial candy colored lights of the party. There are fewer people than when she had last seen. Most of the guests intoxicated under the autumn stars and crystalline champagne. Aoko sees Natsuki-san and gives her a small, shy smile upon catching her eye.

"Would you do me a favor and fetch me a bottle of champagne and three glasses. I'd really appreciate it," she asks the maid to which she nods and disappears into the house. Aoko remains on the wooden balcony in the cold, watching herself in the reflection of the glass windows.

"Aoko-chan, won't you have a drink with me?" a voice lingers from the lights. It's a familiar voice, one she had heard among the crowds of rich sparkling jewels. "Suzuki-san," Aoko smiles politely. He's drunk, that much she can tell from one of the sons of the famously affluent Japanese families. His usual polite demeanor broken down into a façade, one that laughs a little too loud and forgets where his hands are. "Suzuki-san," Aoko tries again, she takes a step away from him which he quickly makes up with a large stride. He's drunk. God he's drunk. So incomprehensibly, senselessly stuck in a drunken stupor. She knows in the morning, after he makes sense of the night through his hazy hangover, he will be filled with regret and send his apologizes for his shameful actions, but right now, Aoko doesn't want a sapphire pendant or a painting of her in a ridiculous pose in a ridiculous dress in a ridiculous setting and a letter in the mail that her parents will read before her. She just wants to be left alone.

"Suzuki-san," she starts again, quickly fabricating lies to get her through his drunken breath. "I would prefer not to. I'm actually with someone and I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea."

"I don't see anyone Aoko-chan. One drink won't hurt," he slurs and rests his lips on her forehead. It's meaningless really, he had done it a number of times sober with simply the friendliest of intentions but she hates the smell of the sweet alcohol that taints the space between them. She wants to scream for him to stop, god damn it, she wants to splash a little water on his face for him to return to his senses. She knows he wouldn't mind once he sobers up. She wants to shout for Saguru again, or even Shinichi but there's too many people still at the party. Too many watchful eyes that would note Aoko's rude behavior that would lead to talk.

"I'm sure he's looking for me," Aoko says pulling away and she's unsure of what more to say, what more to do than to stay in his company until Saguru or Shinichi comes looking for her.

"Terribly sorry to keep you waiting dear," she hears a warm, unfamiliar voice wrap around her. He's tall, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pushing her closer into his muscular build. "It took a while to find an unopened bottle of your favorite champagne. It's not easy to find Perrier Jouet this late into such an extravagant party you know."

She's speechless, just as confused as the drunk. "Thank you very much Suzuki-san for keeping the lady in good company. If you will excuse us, there's so much of the night left for us youth to disappear into." The man takes her by the hand, and after a quick bow guides her away into a secluded spot beside the side of the manor.

"Thank you sir," Aoko repeats her gratitude a number of times with quick comical bows. She's not sure what to make of him. Frankly, she's quite exausted, fatigue clawing at her from the eventful party. She wants to find her chauffeur and climb into the warm leather seats of the sleek black limosine her mother had graced her with upon her sixteenth birthday. She wants to get into the box of Godiva chocolates and French bonbons she hides in the back of one of the seats. She's fed up with being dragged around by the will of other people.

"I'll remember what you've done for me, sir. To show you my gratitude, if you'll be as kind as to give me your name, I'll ensure you, you'll be given the proper assets as a reward. I'm sure a money reward will go far with you," she says flatly, eyeing his garments. There's no designer name handstitched in Italian silk on any of his clothes. No trademark red soles of his shoes or caramel checkered plaid on the inside of a pocket.

He's underdressed compared to her usual company, clad without a suit blazer and wears his dress shirt rolled past his elbows. It's ridiculous. Unbelievable, how he can hold his head as high as he does with the nameless clothes. Undoubtedly, he'd be beautiful, had he been wearing a black blazer that was on the runway in Milan weeks before or in Christian Louboutin's latest men's dress shoes trimmed with gold. Though she finds herself thinking that his face doesn't let him down.

"I appreciate you're act of kindness, mademoiselle, but I'd like to decline you're offer," he says with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. His eyes are blue, giving away a quick glint to his boyish demeanor, he looks to be only a couple years her senior. Somehow the words rub her wrong. Who was he, to deny an offer from the Nakamori family when he himself doesn't seem to have money backing his name?

"What's your name?" she asks cautiously. He looks at her, "Kuroba Kaito, I'm a magician," he answers with a quick smirk. And incomprehensibly, Aoko can't seem to remember her own name under the contrasting stars and the cool Autumn breeze that tugs at her dress and the wisps of hair that protrude from her elaborate plait.

She doesn't know what she's doing, it feels like her actions aren't hers. And maybe it's the glasses of fine champagne and wine that take blame for her uncharacteristic actions but she feels alright for once. She takes out her braid, gently unraveling the intricate hairstyle as it becomes victim to the wind, pulled in spontaneous directions. She watches Kuroba-san watching her. And she's still unsure of what she's doing but, god damn, it feels more natural than anything else she had become victim to at these forsaken parties.

"Kuroba-san," she whispers, gently wrapping her arms around his neck. He doesn't move and she continues to close the space between them. "Why don't you make me believe in magic again?" And right then, she kisses him.

 _A/N: Oh dear, this wasn't how I meant to end this chapter. I imagined it to be more of Kaito taunting her for her ornate lifestyle in which she doesn't even know how to protect herself and Aoko admiring his strength and wanting to know more about his life away from the debauchery of the rich but I think I like this version better. If anyone has any ideas of how they want this story to continue, please, please, please send me a PM or leave a review. I will be very grateful, I've dug myself in a little bit of a predicament not following my own plot._


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